Anger
by Racey
Summary: Ichigo fights to get rid of his anger, but no matter how hard he does, it never goes away. Grimmjow has the solution. AU, yaoi, swearing, violence.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Ichigo gritted his teeth and let his fists work. His temples throbbed and his eyes stung with unshed tears, but he refused to let it deter him from letting off much needed steam. The group of no-named assholes surrounding him started dropping like swatted flies _and it felt so fucking good_.

Idiot to his right that thought green and pink was an acceptable combination of clothing colors, stumbled backwards as if his foot had slid over a rolling pin. Ichigo grinned, knowing the guy's sudden lack of balance could be attributed to the elbow he'd taken to his beaky nose. Three more clowns pressed in around him and as if Ichigo was the Hulk himself, a burst of pure energy surged outward from within, startling his attackers and making their eyes go comically wide. Almost as if they could _see_ the anger that Ichigo had transformed into fighting spirit.

A stream of blood trickled down the left side of his face, even as his breath came in labored gasps. He ignored it. He could tell from the looks on his attackers' faces that his eyes were alive, dancing with all the rage and fury he'd been suppressing for the past four years. He welcomed the feeling, the overwhelming of his other senses. He relished and savored the moment he lost all control of his emotions, letting them spring forward with all the force and urgency of a punctured dam.

"He's crazy," one of the teens stated, dark brown eyes round as saucers, his body slowly edging away.

"He's a fucking bully! Thinks he can say whatever he wants and get away with it!" another shouted, his green eyes glittering with hatred as he alone stepped forward.

Ichigo smirked, lowering his head as it shook sympathetically. "A bully, you say?" He supposed the quiet tone of his voice made him seem even more lethal since the boy that _had_ been moving forward paused, his frown hesitant. "Why? Because I'm not a coward? Because I don't bite my tongue? Or could it be because I'm not phony, smiling all over people, just to stab them in the back later on?" Ichigo snapped, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

The teen narrowed his eyes, the result making them appear as tiny slits of forestry. "You can't just talk to people like that! You're a troublemaker; you live for confrontation-"

"Nah. See, that's where you're _wrong_," Ichigo interrupted. "I don't live for it and I'm not a troublemaker. I stand up for what I believe in. I don't sit back and allow people to walk all over me. I _won't_. I tried and it got me nothing but more pain, more assholes thinking it was OK to keep treating me like shit. Smiling in my face, pretending to be friends, then turning on me when the mood moved them. Fuck that. You're damned right I'm going to speak my mind on things now. And _confrontation_? Just because the majority of you cowards are so scared to be told the truth, doesn't mean I'm the same!" Ichigo ended in a roar.

He was _sick and tired_ of being made to feel like an outcast because he no longer hesitated to tell it like it was, without sugar-coating things and beating around the bush. He wasn't the same Kurosaki that would tolerate that conformist bullshit. It baffled him to no end to see an _entire group of people_ so scared, so _terrified_ of confrontation, of being told the truth. How did these people become politicians if they were too afraid of a debate? How did they survive in a world - that didn't hesitate to strip a person bare - if they were afraid of a raised voice? And why, for the love of all things holy, did they think it was _OK_, think it was _perfectly fine_ to sit on both sides of the fence? _Lie and pretend_ not to have a clue what you were confronting them about? How could they one day love and praise you, only to turn and shun you the next? It confused him and pissed him the fuck off to the point where he'd decided to cut all communication with people, save his family. It wasn't worth it.

The green-eyed kid studied him silently, his blond hair swaying in the breeze as he tilted his head to the side. It didn't seem like he had much of a response and Ichigo found his assumption to be correct when the teen turned and ambled away, glancing over his shoulder back at Ichigo every now and then. Ichigo huffed, unsatisfied. Anger still sang in his bloodstream like a squeaking piece of glass. His heart thundered in his chest and adrenaline made it extremely difficult to sit still. He needed an outlet; he needed to get rid of the piss and vinegar sticking to his insides.

Shit, it hurt not having a place to put so much fury and hatred.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow watched the orange-haired teenager named Kurosaki slice through a handful of boys like they were nothing but whipped butter. He sat perched on a fire escape against a brick building in the dank, dirty alley Kurosaki had managed to get cornered into. His chin rested in his palm, elbow braced against his exposed knee. The jeans he wore had certainly seen better days, but he liked them ripped and worn beyond repair.

The air was sharp and cool, making the gray hoodie he wore necessary. He didn't zip it, but the thick lining kept his skin from breaking into goose bumps. The black tee he wore underneath read "Get Sum" and was wrinkled to the point of permanent creases, but he didn't much care about that. He didn't much care about anything, actually. Except that kid down there. Kurosaki. Grimmjow had never seen such conviction before, especially not in the bunch of sheep they attended high school with. Kurosaki had been right. The other teens seemed to single out and outcast those they felt didn't "fit in" with them, leaving trails of hurt in their wake. He and Kurosaki were different, though. They didn't show how being treated like lepers hurt in the traditional manner, like most of the other simpering teens. They exploded like fireworks on the fourth of July. They lashed, they fought, they cursed, they _rebelled_. They were blunt to a fault and didn't hesitate to speak their minds, another reason Kurosaki appealed to Grimmjow. He licked his lips and watched as Kurosaki seemed to wait until the other teens had disappeared before gathering himself, which Grimmjow could see had been an unsuccessful endeavor, considering the red head was still trembling with rage.

He grinned. Kurosaki was damned intriguing when he was pissed. Not to mention handsome. Deciding now was as good a time as any, Grimmjow rose from his perch and gracefully hopped down the ladder of the fire escape.

"Yo, Kurosaki!"

Kurosaki started, his shoulders twitching before he turned to face Grimmjow, hardened brown eyes narrowed. "What?"

"That couldn'a been satisfyin'," Grimmjow drawled as he sauntered closer to the orange-haired male.

Kurosaki was shorter than him, but a little stockier. Grimmjow wasn't afraid to admit that. Hell, Kurosaki did a lot more fighting than _he_ did these days. Didn't mean he was stronger, though. Another thing Grimmjow noticed about Kurosaki was that the teen's eyes were like hard-wood floors, gleaming with a fresh finish. Kurosaki smelled like blood and sweat, musk and moisture. Grimmjow found the combination interesting, but surprisingly fascinating.

"What are you talking about?" Kurosaki snapped.

Grimmjow arched a brow and stepped even closer, making Kurosaki's shoulders tense and his back stiffen. "Ya know 'zactly what I'm talkin' 'bout."

Then he pushed Kurosaki against the brick wall of the building behind him. He smirked smugly when Kurosaki's brown eyes widened as the air left his lungs. He knew it would take much more to ruffle the tough teen, but he was proud that he'd managed to catch him off guard. Kurosaki's eyes narrowed again as he recovered, but Grimmjow gave him no chance to make any moves. He positioned himself right in front of him, crowding Kurosaki's space and pressing against him. Kurosaki lifted his arms, but thought better of it and left them limply at his sides.

"What do you want, _Grimm-jow_?" the red head sneered.

A shiver of annoyance swept over Grimmjow, but he disguised it with a sneer of his own. He recognized the action as a defense mechanism that Kurosaki adapted when he was thrown into an unfamiliar situation. "I c'n help."

Kurosaki frowned. "Wha-"

"I c'n help wit' that residual anger yer dealin' wit'," Grimmjow murmured in the red head's ear, using his low pitch to ghost across the fine, bright orange hairs along the side of Kurosaki's neck.

Grimmjow knew that what he was doing was a gamble. He had never encountered any indications of Kurosaki's sexual preference, but Kurosaki intrigued him - _in all ways_. The fiery anger he displayed, the righteous way he stood up for himself, his body, his mouth...his _eyes_. Grimmjow would admit he was mildly obsessed with Kurosaki's eyes. In the beginning it had been based solely on disgust. Kurosaki had seemed to look down on him, over him and _through_ him, like Grimmjow didn't even exist. It had pissed him off and made him follow Kurosaki around, if only to find a way to prove to the red head that he wasn't fucking invisible.

Then, he'd started seeing things that changed his perspective on the teen. Kurosaki was like a thousand piece puzzle, broken into tiny, complex bits, but Grimmjow was determined to fit them together until they made sense - no matter how long it took. Luckily, Kurosaki had presented him with the perfect solution. Grimmjow hadn't failed to notice that no matter how hard Kurosaki fought, no matter how much energy he spent, Kurosaki would always maintain a haze of outrage. Grimmjow knew a way to get rid of it that would also get him closer to the fascinating red head. He just hoped Kurosaki wouldn't reject him. Grimmjow glanced down into wary brown eyes and grinned.

He _so_ loved a challenge.

XOXOXO

Ichigo glared at the blue-haired teen invading his personal space. He didn't know what Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was up to, but he didn't appreciate the mocking, knowing gaze he was being pinned with. Not one bit. Ichigo had seen Grimmjow around before at school, of course, but they had rarely crossed paths and never exchanged words. The closest he'd been to the other teen was during Chemistry where Grimmjow took up air in the back of the class, his feet kicked up on the desk beside him.

He was usually silent as a tomb, his hard, cold blue eyes revealing nothing under the surface except occasional mockery and disinterest. He wore a permanent sardonic smirk that would sometimes morph into a full-blown, scary as hell grin. For someone with such a devil-may-care attitude, Grimmjow had a perfect set of dazzling white teeth. Grimmjow never seemed to give a shit about his wardrobe, either, which mostly consisted of ratty jeans, worn tees and hoodies. He was never seen without a pair of low-top Converse Chucks that were more than eligible for the trash. All in all, Grimmjow was less than impressive.

But then he would latch onto you with eyes the color of blue fire and just as intense, a wicked smirk tilting the corners of his mouth. And his hair. Strangely, it seemed to be the one thing Grimmjow cared about with his appearance, aside from his TV perfect teeth. It was always shining and immaculate, bright blue and chaotic. He let his sideburns run wild, but the overall effect suited his style.

Ichigo stared into the boy's endless blue eyes, ignoring the way Grimmjow's deep, gravelly burr made the hair all over his body rise. Instead, he focused on the words the taller, thinner teen had previously spoken. "What do you mean by that?"

Grimmjow tilted his head, one large hand coming up to feather down the slope of Ichigo's neck. Ichigo felt his eyes bulge. Was Grimmjow hitting on him? Was Grimmjow...gay? "Ya _know_ what I mean, Kurosaki. Or are ya askin' me ta _show_ ya?" the blue-haired teen finished with a low murmur.

Ichigo frowned. "I'm not asking you to-" his words were cut off by a sudden sharp intake of breath.

Grimmjow laved his pulse with a warm, wet tongue and his big hand had found its way underneath Ichigo's sweatshirt. Teeth grazed the tendon in his neck as Grimmjow's fingers found and pinched his left nipple. Blinded by sensation, Ichigo could do nothing except tilt his head back and breathe quietly, eyes wide and distantly focused on the other side of the alley.

He wasn't gay, but he would admit that what Grimmjow was doing to him felt good. _Really_ good, in fact. But it made his gut hot with apprehension and suspicion. What did Grimmjow want? Why was he coming onto him like he was starved for affection? And then Grimmjow's wandering hand made its way beneath the waistbands of Ichigo's sweatpants and boxers.

"Ungh!" he grunted in surprise and arousal.

Grimmjow moved his fiery mouth and tongue to Ichigo's collarbone, nipping, licking, sucking. When his slightly rough hand wrapped around Ichigo's still sleeping member, his back arched away from the wall a bit and his length filled almost immediately.

"See?" Grimmjow mumbled against Ichigo's Adam's apple, breath hot and torturous as his hand squeezed and stroked Ichigo's fully awakened shaft. "I c'n make ya get rid a'that anger, Kurosaki. Jus' let me. It'll benefit us both."

Ichigo crashed to Earth at the mention of anger. Somehow, he found the strength and will to push Grimmjow away, freeing his erection from the teen's eager grasp. "Why?" he snapped, frustration and confusion at Grimmjow's statements returning. "Why would you wanna help me? We aren't even friends."

"No, we ain't, but that don't mean we can't use each other as means to an end. Tell me yer not _that_ stupid?" Grimmjow retorted with a sarcastic eyebrow arch.

"Fuck you. I'm not gay anyhow."

Ichigo could practically _hear_ Grimmjow's smirk as he fixed his clothes and hair. His body was still very much ready to delve more deeply into the things Grimmjow had been doing to him and it affected the way he slowly walked to the mouth of the alley.

There he paused and glanced back at Grimmjow. "Stay away from me, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow narrowed his blue eyes but remained silent and strangely serious. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he watched Ichigo leave the alley. Ichigo decided not to read too much into it. He had a lot of other shit to think about.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Grimmjow lay on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling. Well, that certainly hadn't gone the way he'd planned. Kurosaki was supposed to have fallen victim to his lust, allowing Grimmjow to have his way with him. No, the brat had to go and fight, questioning his motives and reasoning. Then he had the nerve to tell Grimmjow to stay away from him. It was obvious that Kurosaki had no clue just who he was dealing with in Grimmjow. He could be more stubborn than a tire stuck in mud.

Grimmjow swung his legs over the side of his bed, studying the floor before he set his feet on the cold wood. He reached blindly for the pack of cigarettes that rested on the nightstand, knowing he should quit, but damning the consequences. Why quit when he had no one to share his life with anyway? He was fine just as he was: alone.

After lighting up, he shuffled over to the window, pulled aside the curtain and cracked it open. The night air was chilly and crisp, making him shiver. His blue and black plaid pajama pants weren't cutting it. It might help if he put on a shirt, though. Goose bumps erupted over his arms and torso while he silently smoked, watching the sleeping city below him. He scratched the tip of his nose and frowned. Thoughts of Kurosaki were keeping him awake at two-thirty in the morning, when he should have been resting for school the next day. Grimmjow gave a derisive snort.

The only reason he even went to class anymore was to see Kurosaki. He didn't care whether he passed or failed. Kurosaki's eternally scowling face had become his motivation. A sudden idea formed in his mind, causing a slow grin to take over his features. Kurosaki would listen, even if he had to _make_ him.

XOXOXO

Ichigo glared across the lunch table. "I thought I told you to stay the _fuck_ away from me."

Grimmjow leaned back in his blue plastic seat and put his feet up on the table, run-down Chucks leaving clumps of dirt across the surface. The blue-haired teen gave him that scary as hell grin that showed off feral-looking canines and gave the impression of a mad man on the loose. Grimmjow crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head, quietly studying Ichigo's face and making Ichigo shift uncomfortably in his own seat.

"Yeah, but I never been too good at listenin'," Grimmjow finally commented.

Ichigo gave the dirt from Grimmjow's sneakers a disdainful glare as he clutched a pint of chocolate milk in his right fist. Other students were starting to stare and whisper, not that Ichigo cared about _that_; he just didn't want his reclusive reputation tarnished by the likes of Grimmjow.

"I don't get it. What do you want from me, Grimmjow?"

Grimmjow's royal blue eyes _glowed_. "Lemme help ya. I promise it'll be worth yer while _an'_ it'll help get rid a'yer anger."

"No," Ichigo immediately answered, shaking his head. "Not gay, remember?" When Grimmjow arched a brow, Ichigo felt his face catch fire. "I'm _not_, you piece a'shit! Lemme see you get your dick felt up and react differently!" he snapped defensively, drawing a deep, booming laugh from Grimmjow, which in any other situation would have made Ichigo laugh as well it was so contagious.

Grimmjow dropped his feet to the floor, then leaned forward, blue eyes devouring and full of lust. "Wanna hear a secret?" Ichigo wasn't entirely sure that he did, but even though he hadn't answered Grimmjow, hadn't encouraged the teen in any way, Grimmjow still decided to enlighten him. He glanced to his right, then to his left as if gauging whether it was safe to relay his secret before he leaned even further over the table. "Girls don't do it for me," he stage-whispered.

Ichigo gave him a blank stare. "No shit. Really?"

Grimmjow smiled conspiringly. "Nope. Can't even get me hard."

"I'm sorry, Grimmjow, but I fail to find the element of surprise in that. Especially after the way you were - well, after yesterday," Ichigo caught himself. He'd started to say something completely embarrassing, like "especially after the way you were jerking me off so well", which only would have succeeded in furthering Grimmjow's ridiculous idea.

Grimmjow snorted and put his feet back onto the table to Ichigo's discreet dismay. A short, dark-haired girl crept past their table, eyeing them incredulously. Ichigo opened his mouth to shoo her away, but Grimmjow beat him to it.

"Get lost, Kuchi. Never seen two guys eatin' lunch together before?"

Ichigo stifled a grin by sipping his milk. The girl, Rukia Kuchiki, gasped and hurried away, her brows scrunched in disgust. Once she was a safe distance away, she whirled around and threw up her middle finger.

"Oh yeah, that's mature," Grimmjow muttered, turning his focus back to Ichigo.

Ichigo cleared his throat, trying to keep a leash on his mirth. "K-Kuchi?" he hesitantly probed.

Grimmjow must have recognized the hidden laughter because he grinned. "It suits her, don't it?"

Ichigo couldn't hold it in any longer and burst into laughter, the howls coming from deep in his stomach. Grimmjow arched a brow and gave him a sideways smirk as he watched. Apparently, Grimmjow wasn't the only one watching the show. Other students had their eyes glued to Ichigo and Grimmjow, obviously baffled but intrigued as to why two of the most notorious misfits in the school seemed to be enjoying each other's company. Ichigo returned to his senses at the sight of Grimmjow's lecherous stare.

He cleared his throat again, this time sitting back in his seat. Grimmjow didn't seem so bad when he wasn't digging his hand into Ichigo's underwear, but Ichigo wanted to keep his distance. He was still wary of the blue-haired teen. Plus, he wasn't gay.

"Look, Grimmjow. You're pretty funny, but I meant it when I said stay away from me. I'm not gay."

With that, Ichigo rose from the table, finished off his chocolate milk, then grabbed his tray and made tracks to the nearest trash can. After dumping the tray, he left the cafeteria, more than aware of all the eyes following him, including a pair of hungry blues.

XOXOXO

"Fuckin' Kurosaki," Grimmjow seethed as he kicked at an empty can.

None of his plans seemed to be going his way and it was beginning to irk him. Kurosaki disappeared whenever Grimmjow appeared and if Grimmjow managed to get the drop on Kurosaki, then the orange-haired twit just ignored him.

Fuck him.

Grimmjow didn't beg. He just threw his presence around and if that didn't work, then it wasn't meant to be. _Too bad_, his conscience flippantly supplied. Grimmjow ignored it and kept trudging down the deserted streets. School had ended with Kurosaki hustling off in the opposite direction and now it was evening, the sun just dipping below the horizon and painting the sky a myriad of oranges, yellows and reds. It was Grimmjow's favorite time of the day, actually. He liked the way the sun steadily disappeared from the sky and made way for the moon to take over.

He ambled towards a group of streets that had long been declared the rough side of the town. It was quicker to his apartment this way. He was turning down a darkened alley, when sounds of a scuffle dispersed the thick silence. A howl filled with rage and fury permeated the stillness and made the hairs on the back of Grimmjow's neck stand straight up. The sound wasn't one of suffering, but one born of desperate anger. He knew that sound; he knew it's creator.

Kurosaki.

XOXOXO

Once again, Ichigo found himself littering another alley with the bodies of idiots that refused to just leave him alone. They didn't seem to get it, so he'd make sure they did. He enjoyed unleashing his anger on them, making the once confident pricks cower and try to run from what they always started, but what Ichigo always finished.

One of the teens had a gleaming, aluminum bat that would probably prove to be a problem, but Ichigo ignored it for the time being. He wasn't afraid and just like always, he felt his anger transforming into energy and sheer power and will. He threw his head back and roared, his attackers exchanging confused and wary glances. This was it. Ichigo lived for this moment, the thrill of fighting and letting off the loathing that harbored and festered within him.

Two of the four teens around him rushed at him, neither being the one with the bat. Ichigo grinned around his bloody bottom lip, not even registering the sting from the cut. He grabbed the first to reach him by his narrow face, then turned and threw him like a baseball. The momentum caused the brunet boy to crash into a green dumpster beside one of the buildings they were hidden between where he collapsed to the ground, out cold. The other teen wrapped a thin arm around Ichigo's neck and tugged backwards, trying to throw him off balance. Ichigo bent at the waist, the abrupt forward movement tossing the teen over his shoulder and onto the ground, where the teen's back arched as he gripped it.

Ichigo turned just in time to catch the aluminum bat that was speeding straight for his head. His fury escalated as he realized that the blow was meant to be fatal. He wrenched the bat from the startled teen's hands and swiftly swung it into the boy's stomach. The resulting thud was sickening, immediately bringing the boy to his knees, where he paused, then toppled over onto his side. The last teen stood frozen as Ichigo stared at him, daring him to come forward and try him. The raven-haired boy didn't. He shook his head, gray eyes wide and thoroughly intimidated before he took off, disappearing from the alley.

Ichigo was so dissatisfied. He was still flooded with adrenaline, his limbs trembling and heart racing. The fighting wasn't doing it anymore. The relief was only temporary at best, but now he needed more. That hadn't even been enough to take the edge off.

"Ya know, this is where I'd come in."

Ichigo jumped at the unexpected, but familiar gravelly baritone. Just his luck that Grimmjow would show up at a time like this. He turned to face the blue-haired teen, whose eyes were bright as lit lamps and shining just as luminously. Grimmjow stalked closer, his long legs and arms making him appear predatory and dangerous. When he was close enough for Ichigo to smell the tobacco and personal musk wafting off of him, Ichigo glared and took a step back.

"_For fuck's sake_, I'm not-"

A hot pair of lips settled over his, shutting him up and robbing him of the little air he had left to breathe. Grimmjow wrapped an arm around Ichigo's waist and plowed his free hand into Ichigo's hair. The taller teen didn't even seem to mind Ichigo's bleeding bottom lip as he opened his mouth and probed with his seriously tempting tongue. Ichigo started to respond, burning embers flaring to life in his gut and groin, but miraculously thought better of it. Instead, he shoved Grimmjow away, giving him a glare that proved he meant business.

"Come near me again, Grimmjow, and I'll kick your ass," he spat before turning his back and stomping away.

Why was Grimmjow being so fucking persistent?


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

_Thank you for the reviews!_

Onwards...

XOXOXO

_Stubborn shit_, Grimmjow thought to himself as he watched Kurosaki storm away. _Not more than me, though_, his conscience smugly added, making a small grin curl his lips upward. If Kurosaki wanted to fight, then Grimmjow would just turn up the pressure and bring the noise right under the red head's nose. He wasn't afraid of a little pig-headed stubbornness. It was a tad annoying, true, but Grimmjow _wanted_ Kurosaki. He was overcome with desire whenever he was within two feet of the boy and it wouldn't go away unless he had a taste. Or two. Or even three, who was to say?

Grimmjow licked his lips, tasting the coppery residue of Ichigo's blood. When he'd kissed the shorter teen, he hadn't realized at the time that Kurosaki's lip had been split. Didn't really care, either, but now he was even more driven to learn what Kurosaki truly tasted like. The idiot hadn't responded to Grimmjow's eager kiss and it had only added fuel to the fire. Grimmjow was bound and determined to make Kurosaki crumble in his palm, maybe even beg for Grimmjow to put out the hostile flames of anger that overwhelmed him even after a battle.

Grimmjow shoved his hands into his pockets and trudged in the direction of his apartment, mind tossing around ideas like clothes in a dryer.

XOXOXO

Ichigo stomped into his home, stomach lurching and skin developing goose bumps. He couldn't understand why he couldn't get rid of Grimmjow's taste. The blue-haired teen had only passed his tongue along Ichigo's lip once, after all and yet, tobacco and soft, wet flesh kept invading his senses, hardening places that had no permission to be hardened. Ichigo kicked off his sneakers and started up the stairs, but paused when his old man's spiky head appeared around the corner of the kitchen.

"Oh, Ichigo, my son! Yuzu has dinner ready. Aren't you - what happened to your lip?"

"I had a fight."

Isshin Kurosaki stepped into the hallway where Ichigo stood and studied him, face drawn and serious for a change. "Are you alright?"

"Fine. Nothin' serious," Ichigo answered curtly, hoping to avoid the concerned lecture that was sure to follow if he stuck around too long.

"You should let me take a look-"

"Dad! I said I'm fine. It's just a split lip: nothing I can't handle with some ice. I'll eat a little later; I'm not really hungry right now."

Isshin sighed and nodded, running a weary hand over his scruffy jaw. "Here, I'll get you the ice," he stated, his voice brooking no room for argument.

Ichigo barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he was forced to wait for his father to fetch one of the ice packs kept in the freezer. At least he'd managed to get around the father-son conversation Isshin always wanted to engage him in after Ichigo had had a fight. Ichigo just wished his old man would understand that he was a teenaged boy and fights happened. OK, not as much as they occurred with him, but still...he was different. He wouldn't run from adversity or bite his tongue when someone displeased him. Not anymore, anyway. The fact that he'd changed had supported his "friends'" decisions not to associate with him any longer. They accused him of being confrontational and dramatic, when all he ever did was stand up for himself.

Fuck 'em.

Isshin reappeared at the foot of the stairs, holding out the ice pack wrapped in several paper towels. Ichigo took it and nodded, wasting no time in turning and lunging up to his room. There he locked himself inside and plopped onto his bed, his hands clammy and heart thudding. All he kept imagining was how he had indeed been distracted from his anger whenever he'd been around the blue-haired teen, Grimmjow. Grimmjow's large, rough hands, blinding smirks, deep voice and persuasive lips and tongue kept bombarding Ichigo's presence of mind, making it difficult to focus.

Ichigo gingerly applied the ice pack to his swollen lip, grimacing at the coldness as he lay back against his pillow. He _shouldn't_ be thinking about Grimmjow, who was very much a male. He _shouldn't_ be thinking about how good it would feel to let his guard down and just _indulge _for once. Ichigo was by no means a virgin, but as far as he knew, he wasn't gay, either. So _why_ was it so hard to stop his mind from wandering to thoughts of bright blue hair and laughing, cold blue eyes? Ichigo shook his head slightly as if to physically clear it. Grimmjow was a nuisance and what Ichigo was going through was only normal. He _was_ human, after all. He had needs and powerful urges too and since it had been a really long time since he'd last had sex, it was only natural that his hormones and body react to Grimmjow's touches.

Simple.

Ichigo's bottom lip throbbed in time to his pulse, but was slowly numbing from the freezing temperature of the ice pack. _Blessed relief_, he thought. Now, if only it was that easy to get rid of his blue-haired stalker...

XOXOXO

Kurosaki had a pretty mouth.

Grimmjow watched him from the other side of the cafeteria, where he'd decided to keep his distance for the time being. Kurosaki was stubborn as a mule and volatile to boot. Grimmjow didn't want to ruin any chances he may have to get close to the red head, so he allowed Kurosaki some space. That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy watching the way Kurosaki's full lips wrapped around a plastic spoon as he ate a fruit cup. Interesting.

In the next instant, Kurosaki set down the spoon and sipped from a pint of chocolate milk, something Grimmjow noticed the boy had a thing for. He avidly watched Kurosaki's Adam's apple bob as he drank, mind conjuring the many ways he planned to make that same Adam's apple bob for different reasons. Then, while Grimmjow's imagination was otherwise occupied, Kurosaki happened to glance right at him and hold his gaze, a curious glint in those copper-brown eyes.

Grimmjow just barely resisted the urge to jump from the intensity in those eyes. Kurosaki leisurely licked his lips, his stare falling to Grimmjow's lips and it made Grimmjow's pants slowly tighten across his lap. What the fuck was Kurosaki doing looking at him that way? How many times had Kurosaki fervently exclaimed that he wasn't gay? So, why did Kurosaki's brown eyes seem to be melting like chocolate pudding in the sun? Grimmjow sat up in his seat, eyes narrowing involuntarily as he fearlessly held eye contact with his current obsession.

And just like that, the spell was broken. Kurosaki blinked, then looked away as he grabbed his lunch tray and stalked to the trash. His broad shoulders were tense and his strong-looking back stiff. Grimmjow felt a fleeting moment of disappointment that their moment had been interrupted before a sly smirk pulled his lips into an upward arc. Even though Kurosaki was fighting against Grimmjow, a crack seemed to have appeared in the red head's flawless defenses. Grimmjow wasn't about to waste a perfect opportunity.

XOXOXO

Ichigo rubbed his nose and lay on his back on the grassy bank of the river. A brown paper bag rested beside him, filled with the remains of his evening snack. He hadn't been in the mood for dinner or going home, so he'd bought something from a vending machine. His appetite was settled, but he was antsy and restless. His stomach kept nose-diving every time he sat still for more than a minute, thoughts irrevocably drawn to his blue-haired schoolmate. Grimmjow hadn't accosted him at lunch that afternoon and it had unnerved Ichigo. Still did, actually. He just _knew_ Grimmjow was up to something because there was no way in hell the teen would just give up on hounding him so easily.

Ichigo had eaten lunch in the silence he had become accustomed to, but had found something strangely missing. Grimmjow hadn't even looked in his direction during Chemistry - which was also odd - and to be completely left alone for the entire school day? Unbelievable. But then Ichigo had felt the unmistakable sensation of a pair of eyes drilling into him. At first, he'd thought it had only been one of the other students that always glared at him like he'd killed their dog...until he'd looked up and locked gazes with cold, sea blue eyes.

Ichigo couldn't really say he'd been surprised to find Grimmjow watching him like a hawk, but he _had_ been surprised - and mildly disturbed - with his own reaction. His gut had caught fire and his brain had immediately thrown images of Grimmjow kissing him right at the backs of his eyes. He'd remembered the other teen's distinct taste and had licked his lips as he'd recalled it. The fire in his gut had languidly spread to his chest and extremeties, softening the hardness in his eyes until he'd felt like any minute he would rise and storm over to Grimmjow, demanding the boy make good on his promises.

When he'd registered the twitching in his jeans, he'd blinked out of his reverie, ashamed at the direction his thoughts had gone. His shame had driven him to retreat, but not before he'd seen the narrowed, intrigued look Grimmjow had pinned him with.

Ichigo grimaced as he covered his face with his arm, the crisp breeze sifting through his short, spiky hair. He really hoped he hadn't encouraged Grimmjow.

_Liar_, his treacherous conscience whispered. _You _want_ to see what he can offer you, so why are you fighting so hard?_

"I _don't_ want to see _anything_," Ichigo muttered.

"Talkin' ta yerself, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo jerked in surprise at the sound of Grimmjow's deep, smoke-roughened voice, but didn't move to look at the boy. He kept his arm firmly over his eyes as he replied, "What do _you_ want?"

There was a pause as the sound of a body settling in the grass beside him registered. Ichigo didn't even bother to hide his sigh. Grimmjow had a nasty habit of turning up at all the wrong times.

"What do I always want?"

"Are you asking or telling?"

"No purpose in askin' at this point, right?"

Ichigo kept quiet. He wasn't about to follow that line of conversation. Hell, he already regretted asking Grimmjow what he wanted in the first place considering he'd already known. A small rustle sounded before the raspy flick of a lighter preceeded the thick scent of a cigarette. Ichigo frowned under his arm.

"Why do you smoke?" he asked.

A harsh exhale. "Why d'ya care?"

"I _don't_," Ichigo answered with a snort. "I was just asking."

Another rustle sounded and Ichigo imagined Grimmjow shrugging his lean shoulders. "Habit, I guess. Started when I was thirteen, been smokin' ever since."

That casually stated comment made Ichigo remove his arm and hazard a glance at Grimmjow. "Are you serious? _Thirteen_?"

Mistake.

Grimmjow pinned him with a fierce stare that lifted the hair on his body. Ichigo hadn't felt anything that intimidating since the first time he'd fought a large group of boys. It was like Grimmjow was _forcing_ Ichigo to acknowledge him.

"Yeah, so? Cigarettes er harmless compared ta the other shit I could be inta," Grimmjow grunted before turning his focus to the shimmering surface of the river.

Ichigo watched his profile, marveling at how sharp Grimmjow's nose was, how angular his jaw was and how flawless his pale skin was. Like Grimmjow didn't believe in stepping into the sun from time to time. Oddly, his pale hue heightened the stunning blue of his eyes and hair. Ichigo gritted his teeth and looked away.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow stared at the river, absently noting the way the water flowed by as if it didn't have a care in the world. By a rare stroke of luck - and not because he'd been following him, mind you - Grimmjow had happened upon Kurosaki lounging beside the river, his arm thrown over his face. He looked peaceful, serene, tranquil. Grimmjow almost hadn't wanted to interrupt him, but then he'd remembered the way Kurosaki had stared at him during lunch and thoughts of leaving the red head be had been banished without a trace of ever having even crossed his mind.

Kurosaki obviously hadn't had any intentions of looking at him until Grimmjow had informed him that he'd first started smoking at thirteen. It wasn't newsworthy, in his opinion, but it just went to show how obtuse Kurosaki was. Didn't the guy realize that the world wasn't made of sugar and cream by now? It was ruthless and fucked up and Grimmjow was proud that he'd so far escaped with minor bruising. Smoking cigarettes was nothing when he thought about how his father had wasted away from too much alcohol as he whored Grimmjow's mother out to random men just to keep up his street cred as one of the most prestigious pimps in the business. It was nothing after watching his mother suffer from so many diseases, she'd lost count until she'd died. Shit, cigarettes were child's play, if you asked him.

He sucked in another lungful of smoke, held it, then let it free, blowing a couple of perfectly formed rings in the brisk Autumn air. He turned back to see Kurosaki frowning at the steadily darkening sky.

"Ya really want me ta stop botherin' ya, Kurosaki?" Grimmjow asked, genuinely curious.

Kurosaki shifted his head and lazily considered him, letting several seconds of silence fill the space between them. "If I say yes, will you actually stop?"

"Didn't fuck witcha today, did I?"

Kurosaki quirked his lips and shrugged before smirking. "You're fuckin' with me now."

Grimmjow answered the smirk with one of his own. "Nah, we're jus' havin' guy-talk."

"There's no such thing," Kurosaki said with a shake of his head.

Grimmjow chuckled and finished his cigarette before flicking it away. "So guys can't jus' talk wit' each other?"

Kurosaki sat up on his elbows and peered at him from under a bright orange fringe. Brown eyes twinkled with suspicion. "But you _don't_ just wanna talk, Grimmjow and I'm not gay."

"So you say," Grimmjow huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm inclined not to believe that, though."

"Whatever," Kurosaki clipped. "I-"

"If this is the part where ya tell me yer not gay again, spare me."

There was an extremely taut and charged silence where all they did was glare at each other. Grimmjow sucked his teeth at the stubborn glint in Kurosaki's eyes before surging to his feet and shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Ya keep tellin' yerself that, Kurosaki, but lemme ask ya this: when's the las' time ya even had sex?" Kurosaki's face tightened with his frown, but Grimmjow pressed on, uncaring. "Did it feel good when I touched ya? Kissed ya? If ya answer yes ta any a'them questions, then there ain't no reason for ya ta keep lyin' ta yerself. It ain't about bein' gay, Kurosaki. It's about what makes ya feel good."

With that, Grimmjow turned on his heel and left Kurosaki to his thoughts. Of course, he was a bit put off by the red head's infuriating stubbornness, but he was satisfied that he'd managed to give Kurosaki something to chew on. Grimmjow hoped his words had actually penetrated through to Kurosaki's brain though, since Kurosaki insisted on behaving like he didn't have one.

XOXOXO

Two weeks.

Two long, frustrating weeks had gone by where Ichigo had seen neither hide nor hair of his blue-haired tormentor. It was unsettling in the worst way. Grimmjow hadn't even bothered to attend school after leaving Ichigo stewing in his own thoughts, battling a relentless conscience. Add to that, Grimmjow had finally gotten the last word during one of their encounters and it set Ichigo on fire. He hated that he hadn't had a clever or witty comeback to nail Grimmjow with. How dare the other teen actually make sense?

Ichigo glared at the chalkboard, tapping a pen against the top of his desk. He wondered where Grimmjow was. Didn't the boy know he only had a certain amount of days he could miss before they expelled him or held him back? Ichigo was sure Grimmjow didn't want to repeat their last year of high school, but at the rate he was going, it would surely happen. Ichigo stopped tapping at the weighty stare coming from his teacher, the dark-haired man gazing threateningly at him over black, plastic rectangular frames.

The bell finally rang, freeing him from the confines of the classroom, where Ichigo quickly made his way to his locker before leaving the depressing building. He hated the fact that he couldn't concentrate on anything other than seeing Grimmjow again. It wasn't fair that the boy had been able to get to him so successfully. Ichigo had been fine knowing he wasn't gay, knowing he couldn't _really_ be attracted to such an annoying teen, but then Grimmjow had sent his head reeling with his parting speech.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with that?

And then for Grimmjow to just up and disappear? Not fair._ Not_ fair. Ichigo hadn't been paying attention as he walked, his body moving on autopilot, so when he was shoved roughly into the side of a gray, cement building, it caught him completely off guard. Air fled his lungs and made his chest burn and his back ache. His eyes watered as he fought for breath and tried to catch a glimpse of his attacker, but a foot swept out and connected with his shin, making him grind his teeth together in pain, even as he tried to hide it.

What he saw of his assailant was white hair and a deathly pale complexion that made him briefly wonder if the person was an albino. Ichigo shoved aside the stinging pain in his leg, making room for the rage boiling inside of him. Who was this person? What did they want?

Didn't matter.

_I'll kill him_, Ichigo seethed, hands tightening into fists. When the scarily pale being neared him again, Ichigo lashed out, swinging his left arm in a wide arc that distracted his attacker just long enough for Ichigo to land a right uppercut. The blow did its job of getting the guy away from him. Ichigo straightened, only to have his face fall in severe disappointment when he realized the bastard wasn't moving. He hadn't meant to knock him out so quickly and now his body was positively ringing with adrenaline and unspent frustration.

Ichigo took a moment to study the boy that had attacked him, his eyes widening in alarm when the action revealed a full head of thick, ash-white hair skin so pale he almost appeared gray. Ichigo knew this guy, but what the fuck was he doing around here? Shirosaki lived all the way on the other side of town and had no real business on this side. Ichigo remembered meeting the little cocky prick during summer camp when they were eleven and Ichigo had thoroughly thrashed Shirosaki in everything they'd done, whether it had been swimming, running, arts and crafts - anything.

It couldn't be possible that Shirosaki still held a grudge after all that time, could it? But then Ichigo shook his head, anger filling his stomach. Shirosaki had attacked him and been taken down, leaving Ichigo with a bitter taste in his mouth. He was positive Shirosaki hadn't expected to be beaten so quickly, but Ichigo was more interested in why the dumbass had attacked him in the first place. He toed the albino's side, frustration licking at him when he got no response. He was tempted to kick the pale shit clear across the street.

Ichigo rubbed a hand over his face, blowing out a deep exhale. Now he was all riled up and it annoyed him. His body still trembled from the adrenaline pumping through him, not to mention the anger and disappointment from that short, meaningless fight with Shirosaki. Ichigo straightened his clothes and turned in the direction of his home, only to run right into a wall. Or so it felt.

Ichigo stumbled back a step, but caught himself as he glanced at what he'd run into. Bright blue hair was wild and untamed as usual, and royal blue eyes were hooded, intense and piercing. Ichigo stifled a gasp as his eyes widened. Grimmjow? Where the hell did he come from? Where the hell had he been?

"Where the hell have you been?" Ichigo found himself snapping.

Grimmjow arched a thin, blue brow. "Why d'ya care?"

Ichigo paused to consider his reply. He_ didn't_ care. He really didn't; he just wanted an explanation for Grimmjow's long absence.

_But if you don't care, why did you even notice his absence?_ his conscience whispered. _You do care. Stop fighting._

Ichigo fought a helpless whimper as he realized that in the course of trying to avoid Grimmjow, trying to convince the persistent idiot that he wasn't gay, he'd become used to the blue-haired teen's presence. He'd grown to like Grimmjow's soft-looking blue hair, cold blue eyes, deep, rumbling voice...wicked smirks. When had it happened? How?

He couldn't even answer Grimmjow's question truthfully without making a fool of himself, so he crossed his arms over his chest and sneered. "I don't."

Something close to annoyance flashed quickly in Grimmjow's blue eyes. "Yeah, I know," he grunted and brushed past Ichigo. "I'll be goin' now."

Ichigo felt a strange hollowing in his stomach as he watched Grimmjow make his way up the street, back stiff and hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. Ichigo didn't like it; in fact, it pissed him off. He stormed up to the blue-haired boy, grabbed his collar and shoved him into a nearby alley. Once they were away from the street, Ichigo forced the taller teen against the wall, swallowing harshly as he glared into sharpened blue eyes.

"What the fuck's wrong witchu?" Grimmjow growled dangerously and his tone gave Ichigo goose bumps _and_ made his groin come to life.

He'd never heard Grimmjow sound like that and the shit was enough to turn him all the way on, disconcerting as it was. Ichigo didn't even care anymore. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but instinct drove him to lean forward and bury his nose into the crook of Grimmjow's neck. He inhaled deeply and moaned. Grimmjow didn't smell spectacular, but that hardly mattered. It was because the scent was completely _Grimmjow_ that it made Ichigo's toes curl. He stuck his tongue out and licked the side of Grimmjow's neck, drawing a quiet grunt from the other teen.

It wasn't enough. He needed more.

Ichigo lifted his free hand and grasped a handful of Grimmjow's hair, briefly delighting at how soft it was. Then he tugged backwards and raised his head so he could lock eyes with Grimmjow. Astonished blue eyes stared back at him, but they were also fearless and anxious. Ichigo crushed their mouths together, not even caring that Grimmjow was very much a male. The way Grimmjow bit at his lips and forced his tongue inside his mouth was enough to make everything else fade away.

Grimmjow groaned and it made Ichigo so hard it almost hurt. Beyond anxious and ready for more, Ichigo grabbed one of Grimmjow's hands - which had relocated to his waist - and led it to the tent in his jeans. Ichigo pulled back from the kiss that really wasn't a kiss - it was more like a clashing of teeth and tongues - and met Grimmjow's lusty gaze.

"Get me off," Ichigo murmured.

Grimmjow sucked in an excited breath and let a few beats pass before he nodded. "'Bout fuckin' time, Kurosaki."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

**Dislaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

_Thank you for the reviews!_

Onwards...

XOXOXO

"Make it _good_. Make this fucking anger _go away_," Kurosaki said through clenched teeth, the resulting thrill his words sent shooting down Grimmjow's back, absolutely titillating.

Grimmjow growled and gripped a fistful of Kurosaki's hair. He was almost desperate to taste the teen again. He tugged on the handful of bright orange hair he held between his fingers, making Kurosaki's strong-looking neck crane backwards. Kurosaki regarded him with narrowed syrupy brown eyes. God, how long had he wanted this? How long had he been anticipating this very moment, but never really knowing if it would actually occur?

Too long.

Grimmjow reversed their positions and forced Kurosaki against the brick wall of one of the buildings enclosing the alley. Kurosaki let out an annoyed huff, but Grimmjow ignored it in favor of leaning in to bury his face in Kurosaki's warm neck. He let his lips linger there, reveling in the soft skin and the scent of sweat, arousal and Kurosaki. Then he parted his lips and let the tip of his tongue peek through, teasing the fine hairs on Kurosaki's neck until the teen was squirming and growling impatiently, dick hard and unrelenting against Grimmjow's thigh.

"_Do something_," Kurosaki snarled, his breath fluttering Grimmjow's hair.

Grimmjow grinned and sucked on Kurosaki's Adam's apple, hands twining in the other boy's soft, spiky hair. Kurosaki groaned and leaned his head back. Grimmjow imagined those frustratingly addictive eyes of Kurosaki's sliding shut and the visual made his erection beat against the confines of his jeans. Then Kurosaki caught him off guard. Hands fumbled at Grimmjow's belt, the noise of the buckle almost deafening in the otherwise quiet alley.

Grimmjow lifted his head from the comfortable spot in the hollow of Kurosaki's collarbone, unable to hide his shock. His eyes found molten brown and it was almost painful to look at it was so arousing. Kurosaki didn't say a word, but then again, he didn't have to. His eyes certainly spoke volumes, declaring defiance and exclaiming challenge as if he were daring Grimmjow to mention his boldness. Soon enough, Kurosaki got Grimmjow's belt and jeans undone, the denim pants slipping down over his hips and past his ass. They settled around his ankles at the same time as Kurosaki slowly lowered his boxers. Cool air caressed Grimmjow's exposed length and only made it harden that much more.

Grimmjow gulped and pressed his forehead to Kurosaki's damp one. Kurosaki was sweating, his body trembling, but he fearlessly held eye contact with Grimmjow. That spurred him into action and made him reach down to free Kurosaki's straining erection as well. Not one to be outdone, Grimmjow took hold of Kurosaki's dick, smiling when the red head hissed and shut his eyes. As he started stroking, Grimmjow leaned forward and engaged Kurosaki in another aggressive lip-lock full of nipping teeth and thrusting tongues.

Kurosaki sighed and made a strange sound in the back of his throat as if here were holding back a whine and a growl. Grimmjow sucked Kurosaki's tongue into his mouth, heart feeling as if it were hitting him. His blood boiled and his body ached. And then Kurosaki stoked the fire burning in him by wrapping his large, rough hand around Grimmjow's shaft and urgently tugging. Grimmjow involuntarily bucked his hips, his brows pulling together in pleasure.

Kurosaki's hand was warm and just perfect. The way he pulled amateurishly on Grimmjow's length only made the feeling that much more amazing. That much more intense. Grimmjow backed out of the kiss, only to rest his forehead against Kurosaki's again. He wanted to watch the red head enjoy himself, wanted to see him "get off."

Kurosaki's breathing deepened and escalated. His brown eyes fluttered open and settled on Grimmjow's half-lidded blues. When Kurosaki licked his full lips, it made Grimmjow groan, but he never broke eye contact. He couldn't. Kurosaki's eyes were like magic, drawing him in and hypnotizing him.

He rubbed his thumb over the head of Kurosaki's arousal, teasing and spreading the teen's pre-come. The slick feeling was erotic, but more-so made Grimmjow want to lower himself to his knees and suck Kurosaki dry. He would take things a step at a time, though. He didn't want to scare the boy away right when he'd gotten him within his grasp.

Kurosaki gasped, then exhaled noisily, his breath hitting Grimmjow in the face like a gust of warm wind. "Fuck," the red head whispered.

Grimmjow quickened his hand's pace, his own breathing becoming erratic. Kurosaki's hand matched his, making him leak like a broken faucet and hot, liquid fire bloomed across his pelvis and in his groin, the heat streaking up to his nipples. His hips formed a mind of their own as he thrust into Kurosaki's large hand.

Grimmjow lifted his free hand and cupped the back of Kurosaki's neck. He leaned forward and nipped Kurosaki's earlobe before tracing the shell with his tongue. Kurosaki gasped again, this time the intake of air deeper. His hips pistoned and his shaft hardened. Grimmjow could feel the surging that signaled Kurosaki's release was near, so he kissed the teen's jaw, slowly traveling over his chin and up to Kurosaki's tempting lips. He pressed their lips together briefly, but pulled back, not wanting to miss a second of Kurosaki's pleasure faces.

Kurosaki whimpered, his free hand coming up to rest on Grimmjow's shoulder. "Oh, god."

"Tha's it, Kurosaki," Grimmjow groaned, his own orgasm building strongly.

Then Kurosaki hissed, tears forming in the corners of those nut-brown depths before his thrusting hip movements became jerky and uncoordinated. The hand on Grimmjow's shoulder tightened, fingers digging through the hoodie and Kurosaki's lips parted as he stared up at Grimmjow in sheer awe.

Grimmjow pecked his lips again and Kurosaki came. Hard. Long. The red head's back arched and thick threads of semen left his throbbing member, splattering onto Grimmjow's hoodie and tee. The sight alone was enough to send him over the edge, but when he listened to the way Kurosaki still moaned as if his life depended on it, he exploded like a cherry bomb, baring his teeth in a snarl so fierce, anyone passing would have mistaken it for anger. His own essence made its way onto Kurosaki's clothes as well, but Grimmjow didn't think the other teen would mind. Kurosaki's breathing was deep and heaving as he continued clinging to Grimmjow, the hand around Grimmjow's length still clenched tightly.

"Let go," Grimmjow murmured against Kurosaki's lips.

Kurosaki jumped, his eyes shooting open, but when he realized he was strangling Grimmjow's dick, his hold loosened. The look on Kurosaki's face was mildly alarming, but Grimmjow wouldn't show it. Grimmjow wouldn't give the red head the satisfaction of knowing he'd affected him. Instead, he lifted the hand that had been stroking Kurosaki's erection and slowly, deliberately licked Kurosaki's come from his fingers.

Brown eyes widened as Kurosaki watched, fascinated. Well, it was a far cry from the disgust Grimmjow had been expecting. Kurosaki's semen was musky and bitter - not the best tasting stuff in the world - but it didn't bother Grimmjow. Just knowing it was Kurosaki's was enough to make him relish the taste. There was so much more he wanted to do to Kurosaki, but slow and steady would win the race in this case. Not that Kurosaki hadn't mashed the fast-forward button. Still...Grimmjow didn't want Kurosaki to suddenly panic because he'd just given a male a handjob and received one from said male in return.

"Still angry?" he asked the red head.

Kurosaki looked up at him, brown eyes wide but calm. He rolled his neck and rotated his shoulders. After a few more seconds of silence, he finally answered. "Nah. I'm good."

Grimmjow grinned as he stooped and fixed his clothes. Yes, he had semen drying in his boxers and on his hoodie, but he was fine with that. Kurosaki did the same, wrestling his jeans into place before rubbing the back of his head nervously. Grimmjow inwardly scoffed, but outwardly leaned close and kissed Kurosaki's parted lips.

"It c'n be like that all the time, ya know? Jus' gotta lemme know."

Kurosaki seemed to consider Grimmjow's words before acting. "I'll see," he muttered.

Grimmjow watched Kurosaki slink out of the alley, a smug grin on his face. Kurosaki was his now; it was only a matter of time.

XOXOXO

Ichigo damn near ran home and up to his room. He locked the door and paced the small space. God, he could still feel Grimmjow's big, calloused hand stroking him to completion. Ichigo flopped onto the bed and blew out an annoyed breath. He wasn't quite sure what had come over him, what had made him _do_ the things he'd done to Grimmjow, but the results had left him quaking with satisfaction.

When Grimmjow had reversed their positions and shoved him against the wall, he'd been too turned on to think apprehensively. Not to mention, his conscience had been singing Grimmjow's praises. From there, he'd just gone on instinct and what he remembered of his first time being touched by Grimmjow. He recalled how Grimmjow had shamelessly wrapped a hand around his hardened flesh like it belonged to him, and imitated those actions.

Ichigo was confused. He wasn't gay, but Grimmjow's words from by the river had done a number on him. What had just occurred in that alley had _indeed_ felt good; in fact, it had felt _better_ than good and it had successfully helped his anger fade away without a trace. Concentrating would have been the only way he'd remember what he'd even been pissed about. Even now, he had a hard time dwelling on anything other than Grimmjow's firm, yet soft and demanding lips, his rough hands and hot tongue.

Ichigo shuddered and rolled onto his side. It hadn't been as bad as he'd previously thought it would be. The fact that Grimmjow was a guy hadn't even bothered him in the heat of the moment and if Ichigo was very honest with himself, he would admit he wanted to do it again. Not just to get rid of his anger, either. He wanted to spend more time around the blue-haired teen, wanted to taste his lips and tongue again, wanted to feel the boy's hands on him again. Maybe more.

Ichigo closed his eyes and wondered what Grimmjow was up to. Was he at home thinking about Ichigo, too? Ichigo immediately shook his head, feeling distinctly like a girl with her first crush. He wouldn't let this thing with Grimmjow get out of hand. It was strictly a means to an end. There were no feelings involved, aside from lust and Ichigo felt keeping it that way was the best option.

Nevermind that his thoughts were never too far from bright blue hair and eyes, and a wicked smirk.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Ichigo slowly entered the classroom and plopped into his seat. He was a bit early, but that was OK. Maybe he could use the extra few minutes to grab a nap, considering he hadn't had a wink of sleep the night before. How could he when all he could think of was swirling, ocean blue eyes and bright blue hair? Grimmjow's voice kept entering his subconscious whenever he'd _tried_ to catch some sleep, distracting him and sending his eyes shooting open. Ichigo had tossed and turned, his mind torturing him, conjuring image after image of the other teen's big hands and warm body.

By four o'clock in the morning, Ichigo had resigned himself to a sleepless night and remained awake, flipping through the channels on the TV in the living room. Six o'clock had rolled around and his old man had strolled down the stairs, only to freeze at the bottom, staring at Ichigo like he'd seen a ghost.

"_What are you doing up, Ichigo, my son? Isn't it too early for you?"_

"_Couldn't sleep," Ichigo grunted, casually turning back to the TV._

_Isshin shuffled into the living room, his gold button-up shirt and black khakis wrinkled beyond saving. He hadn't donned his white lab coat yet, and his hair was sticking up on his head in its usual rebellious manner. He stood next to the couch Ichigo was draped across and fidgeted a bit, making Ichigo roll his eyes in the man's direction._

"_Spit it out."_

_Isshin gave a nervous chuckle before shrugging. "Is everything alright?"_

"_Everything's just peachy. Just a little insomnia; nothing I can't handle."_

"_I'm not worried about whether you can handle it or not, Ichigo. I'm just concerned..." Isshin's voice trailed off as he gave Ichigo a weighty stare._

_Ichigo laughed. "Seriously, Old Man. There's nothing wrong. I'll be fine."_

_Isshin waited a few more beats, still giving Ichigo a serious look before he finally sighed and headed off towards the kitchen, where the door leading to the clinic was located. "I trust you."_

_Ichigo sagged against the cushions, partly from relief, but mostly from guilt. There was no way he was telling his old man that he was questioning his sexuality. He didn't know how his father felt about homosexuality and truthfully, he didn't want to find out just yet. This thing with Grimmjow wasn't serious enough to require "the speech", so Ichigo would keep it to himself for now. _

_Just to be safe._

Seven-thirty had rolled around and Ichigo had found himself getting ready to face the day. He'd showered and dressed, then walked to school – in peace for once. No one had assaulted him or made fun of his "obnoxious hair", and Ichigo had found it refreshing. He'd been able to take his time and stroll to school, taking in his surroundings and enjoying the crisp morning air. It had all seemed to be too good to be true. Nothing that good ever lasted in his life, so why should it start now? Ichigo lay his head down on his folded arms on top of his desk and closed his eyes. A few minutes was all he needed.

"Chigo." Ichigo heard his name, but he was still under the spell of a deep sleep and couldn't respond. "Kurosaki Ichigo!"

At the sharp tone, Ichigo managed to lift his head and look around. His homeroom teacher was staring at him over his tortoiseshell glasses, violet eyes angry.

"Huh?" Ichigo replied stupidly as he wiped his eyes and mouth.

"Do you require a trip to the infirmary, Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo shook his head, shameless. He hated class anyway. "No."

"Then, I suggest you wake up. The time for sleeping has passed. Now, if you'd all open your books to page thirty-three..."

Ichigo tuned the man out with a roll of his eyes. He propped his chin against his palm and stared off at nothing in particular, until something hit him in the back of the head. Whatever had hit him, hadn't been hard; in fact, it had felt like a balled up piece of paper. He turned slowly in his seat, glaring over his shoulder, wondering who had the audacity to throw paper at him. What he found behind him almost made him fall out of his seat in shock.

_What the hell?_

Grimmjow sat in the last seat of the row, feet propped on the empty desk chair beside him and mouth pulled into that wide, devilish grin. His hair was unruly as always, but still shampoo commercial worthy. His teeth gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights and his pale skin almost seemed to give off a low hum of energy. He wore his usual get-up of a ratty, red tee, a black hoodie, equally chewed up light-blue jeans, and run-down black and white Chucks. None of that mattered, however. What the hell was Grimmjow doing in homeroom? The guy had never managed to make it there before.

Ichigo caught Grimmjow's piercing blue gaze, his breath hitching as he did so. Grimmjow had the ability to strip away all of Ichigo's defenses with one well-placed look, and right now, that ability was working overtime. Ichigo almost didn't notice the other boy gesturing with his head towards the balled up piece of paper that lay beside Ichigo's feet. But since he did manage to catch the subtle movement, he leaned over and snatched up the paper. Slowly, he opened it, wondering if something was rigged to jump out at him and get him in even more trouble with the teacher. When nothing leaped out at him, his shoulders relaxed. All that was on the paper was a short message scribbled in a messy scrawl.

_Meet me on the roof._

Ichigo immediately crumpled the paper and sent a frown over his shoulder at the grinning blue-haired teen. What the hell was Grimmjow aiming for? When did he want Ichigo to meet him on the roof? More importantly, though, why? Ichigo sent a quick glance up at the teacher, noting that the man had his back turned to the class as he jotted down notes on the board. Using the time to get some answers, Ichigo shifted in his seat and mouthed the word "why" at Grimmjow. Grimmjow just grinned, his eyes mischievous, but giving away nothing.

Ichigo started to mouth another question, when Grimmjow cleared his throat loudly, then spoke up. "Oi, Sensei. I need ta use the potty."

The rest of the students snickered at Grimmjow's use of the word "potty", but Ichigo was confused and alarmed. What the hell was the boy up to? The teacher turned towards the class and raised a hand to quiet them down before he addressed Grimmjow.

"Is it urgent, Jaegerjaques-kun?"

"Well, tha's debatable. I mean, I _could_ sit here and piss all over this desk. _Or_ ya can gimme a pass to do things proper-like. S'up ta you."

With that, Grimmjow sat back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest. Meanwhile, their teacher's face had gone completely red, nostrils flaring wildly. The man's grip on the piece of chalk he held had become dangerous.

"Your language is repulsive. After you go to the bathroom, you can take a trip to the principal's office. I will not tolerate such rudeness in my classroom."

Grimmjow cackled as he nonchalantly rose from his seat. "Suit yerself. An' here I thought ya liked my comp'ny."

"Get out!" the teacher snapped, glasses trembling on the edge of his long nose.

Grimmjow cackled some more as he made his way to the door. There he turned and gave a sweeping bow, his movements soaked with sarcasm. Ichigo had a hard time not laughing at the boy's antics along with the rest of the class. However, his mind was more attached to what he was supposed to do now. Before Grimmjow closed the classroom door, he glanced back at Ichigo and lifted both severe eyebrows as if to ask what he was waiting for. Ichigo gulped, his heart starting to race. What could Grimmjow want to meet him on the roof for? And why now? Why couldn't the boy wait until lunch for his little impromptu meeting?

Ichigo had never cut classes before and he'd never really intended to do so, either, no matter how much he hated them. Yet, his curiosity was getting the best of him. He made sure to wait a few minutes before he raised his hand slowly. The teacher had been at his desk writing in a planner, when Ichigo decided to clear his throat to get the man's attention. The teacher looked up over his glasses, eyes wary and suspicious as if he expected Ichigo to cause a scene similar to Grimmjow's.

"Sensei, I think I _will_ take that pass to the infirmary. I'm not feeling too well," he lied, turning his deep voice into a throaty croak.

The teacher studied him for a while, then nodded. "Go ahead, Kurosaki-kun. I hope you feel better."

Ichigo nodded as he gathered his things and rose from his seat. He felt like everyone knew he was lying and it made him defensive, his hackles rising for no apparent reason. _Damn Grimmjow and his bad influence._ Ichigo quickly left the classroom and started in the direction of the infirmary, just in case someone was watching him. When he came to the end of the hall where he was supposed to to turn left for the infirmary, he turned right instead and slipped through the door leading to the roof. He climbed the stairs slowly, his heart rate kicking up again.

Just what did Grimmjow have planned? Secretly, Ichigo hoped the blue-haired teen wanted more of what had happened the day before. Even though he wasn't angry at the moment, Ichigo didn't think he had it in him to turn down an offer like that. Then, his apprehension welled up. Did that mean he was gay, now? He'd made another man come with his own hand, and had even allowed that man to make him come in return.

Not to mention, when he thought of things going further, it didn't bother him the way he thought it should. But what the hell was he thinking anyway? This thing with Grimmjow needed a serious set of brakes because the momentum Ichigo was allowing it to acquire was hazardous.

He finally made it to the top of the stairs and pushed open the heavy metal door. It creaked noisily, so there was no way he could have hidden his appearance. The first thing he noticed when he stepped onto the roof was the acrid scent of cigarette. _Yep. Grimmjow was up here, alright._ The other boy stood with his back facing Ichigo, arms propped on the iron railing, and cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips. When the roof door screamed his approach, Grimmjow glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes hooded and disturbingly sexy.

Ichigo swallowed forcefully and scrounged up his courage. He stalked over to Grimmjow and stood right beside him, not shying away from the intense way he was being watched. Grimmjow's lips curved into his infamous smirk before he lifted a hand and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. He rudely blew smoke into Ichigo's face, making Ichigo growl and wave it away with an agitated swipe.

"I see ya made it," Grimmjow casually stated.

"Yeah. What was so important ya had ta meet me on the roof during class?"

"Ohh? Never skipped class before, Kurosaki? Where'd those angel wings come from all of a sudden?"

Ichigo snorted. "Just 'cuz I've never skipped class before, it doesn't make me an angel. Now, stop changin' the subject."

Grimmjow shifted his weight, making it easier for him to face Ichigo. Another pull from the cigarette, then Grimmjow shrugged, slowly exhaling the smoke through his nose. "Nothin' important. Jus' wanted ta hang out fer a bit."

Ichigo stared at the teen like he'd grown a dick from his ear. "Are you serious?"

"Last time I checked."

"Don't be an ass. This couldn't wait 'til _after_ school, perhaps?"

Grimmjow broke the relative silence of the roof with a loud bark of laughter, head thrown back and eyes closed. "C'mon, Kurosaki! Live a little!"

It was unavoidable. Ichigo couldn't help but to join in with Grimmjow's contagious laughter and devil-may-care attitude. He'd never cut class before, so one time couldn't hurt. He turned his back to the railing and leaned against it, propping his elbows on the edge.

"So what're we gonna do?" he asked, lazily rotating his shoulders and rolling his neck.

When Grimmjow didn't immediately respond, Ichigo looked at him for an answer. What he found instead were those stunning blue eyes roaming all over his body hungrily. A lump formed in his throat as he tried to disregard the blatant lust swimming in Grimmjow's gaze. Grimmjow was so shameless.

"Are you gay, Grimmjow?" Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow blinked, his focus zeroing in on Ichigo's face. "I thought that was obvious, Kurosaki."

"I mean, well..." Ichigo let his voice trail off as his face burned and he thought of how to explain himself more clearly. "I don't think I'm gay, but I did..._things_...with you...so...I thought maybe you were the same."

Grimmjow gave him a long, curious stare before he smirked and flicked his spent cigarette over the roof's railing. "Kurosaki, I didn' know ya had it in ya ta be cute."

"Oi! Fuck you! I'm not cute!"

"Yeah, I would've agreed wit' that not too long ago, but now I'm thinkin' otherwise."

"Look, asshole-"

"Kurosaki, I told ya a while back that I'm gay. I don' like girls at all; they do nothin' for the man downstairs. That answer yer question?"

"Oh yeah. I forgot."

"So, is it my turn ta ask questions?" Grimmjow asked, making himself comfortable against the railing as well.

"No, I never said anything about that."

"S'too bad. I'm gonna ask 'em anyway."

"Jerk."

"Uh-huh. Now. What's it like ta be Kurosaki, I wonder. Why d'ya always have idiots on yer back fuckin' witcha?"

Ichigo paused and considered the question. He knew half the time the taunts and shit were about his hair, which was unfortunately natural. The other times were because of his attitude and how he had a very low – almost nonexistent – tolerance for bullshit. Liars, fake and phony "friends", conformists, idiots: they all fell under the bullshit category, in Ichigo's opinion.

"I guess you could say my hair is one of the reasons," he started slowly. Grimmjow arched a brow, but kept silent. "And then, I don't take shit from anyone. That's gotta be the other reason."

Grimmjow grunted and lowered himself to the rooftop, reaching up at the last minute and yanking Ichigo down along with him. Ichigo fell ungracefully, glaring at the blue-haired teen who wasn't paying him the slightest bit of mind.

"Those're dumb reasons, ya know?"

"Yeah, _I_ know, but I don't think _they're_ aware of that," Ichigo said in response.

"Well. S'their loss."

The words were so uncharacteristic, they made Ichigo blink in surprise. Grimmjow actually had a nice side? Ichigo turned and unabashedly studied the other boy. Before, Ichigo had never thought much about Grimmjow's looks, but the more he took in, the more he realized how mistaken he'd been. Grimmjow was handsome in his own right. Those arresting, Egyptian blue eyes for one thing, and that messy, bright blue hair for another. His skin, although pale, was absolutely flawless, which was rare for teenagers. Grimmjow had no acne, no blemishes, not even a pimple. _Lucky bastard._ Ichigo didn't have any of those either, but he felt that what he had was much worse: fucking freckles. Add to that his blazing orange hair and he was a walking punchline.

Grimmjow was also tall and solid. He was lean, but strongly built. He didn't smell; in fact, if Ichigo had to describe Grimmjow's scent, he would say it was similar to fresh rain. And cigarettes, of course. Speaking of cigarettes, Ichigo found himself eyeing the pack sticking out of Grimmjow's hoodie pocket. Suddenly overwhelmed with curiosity, he held out his hand.

"Lemme have one of those," he ordered.

Grimmjow set those laughing blue eyes on him and arched a brow. "One a'what?"

"_Those_," Ichigo stressed, pointing a finger at Grimmjow's pack.

Grimmjow glanced down at his pocket incredulously before looking back up at Ichigo. "No way. Yer not blamin' me fer corruptin' ya."

"I won't! Just gimme one!"

Grimmjow stared him down before reaching for the pack and withdrawing a cigarette. He handed it over slowly, eyes wide, but obviously intrigued. Ichigo snatched it and stuck it between his lips, then held his hand out again.

"Lighter?"

The cigarette tumbled to his lap.

Grimmjow hooted with laughter before picking it up and holding it to Ichigo's lips again. "Yer not that advanced, Tiger. One step at a time, yeah?"

Ichigo's face went hot as he blushed, embarrassed. Still, he couldn't hide the smile that tilted his lips upwards. Grimmjow went back into his hoodie pocket and took out a white Bic. He held it to the end of Ichigo's cigarette expectantly, so Ichigo prepared himself to inhale once Grimmjow flicked it. No matter how much he'd _tried_ to prepare himself, it did nothing to prevent the fit of coughing he immediately fell into. Grimmjow cackled loudly as he watched Ichigo struggle to catch his breath.

_Holy shit, the burn._ Not only did it singe his throat, but Ichigo thought he was going to die from a dry mouth. It felt like he'd just inhaled a gust of humidity mixed with forest fire.

"Fuck!" he choked, eyes watering. "That's awful!"

"Nah, ya get used ta it. Wanna try again? This time don' breathe too deep."

Ichigo was wary. He didn't know what had come over him and driven him to try smoking a cigarette in the first place, but he'd come this far, so he wasn't about to turn around now. Besides, Grimmjow would never let him live it down.

"Fine," he muttered.

Somehow during his coughing seizure, he'd managed to hang onto the cigarette. And miracle of miracles, the thing was still lit. Ichigo set the filter to his lips again and slowly, gently inhaled. This time, the burn was still there, but it was more of a mellow, numbing burn. When he exhaled, the burn ebbed. He tried again and it got easier with each pull he took. He peered at Grimmjow from the corner of his eye and stifled the urge to cough. Grimmjow watched him with a wide, devious grin.

"Welcome ta the dark side, Kurosaki."

Ichigo absently smiled, unaware that it was one of his more genuine ones. He glanced at Grimmjow again, this time blowing smoke in the blue-haired boy's face, returning the gesture from earlier. Grimmjow chuckled and put his arms behind his head, leaning back against the railing again. Ichigo leaned too, relaxing while he finished his first cigarette ever.

This was nice. Sure his old man would more than likely kill him for smoking, but right here, right now, he was enjoying himself with the most unlikely of company.

**Next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

There comes a time in a teenage boy's life, where all he can think of is sex. Grimmjow was in the middle of living that statement. He glanced across the lunch table at Kurosaki and grinned to himself. God, the boy just didn't realize that he had sex appeal leaking from his ears and nose. Kurosaki glared at him, grip inhuman around the spoon in his left hand.

"What'd you just say to me?" he growled, husky baritone low and throaty, taking Grimmjow back to the special moment they'd shared in the alley.

Grin spreading to his sideburns, the blue-haired teen sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "I said kiss me."

"You're nuts."

Kurosaki rolled those fierce brown eyes of his and went back to devouring the cup of chocolate pudding in his other hand. Grimmjow chuckled under his breath as he studied the teen. He loved getting under Kurosaki's skin; it turned him the fuck on. Deciding he could do much more damage, he sat forward and leaned across the table some.

"Well, lemme suck yer dick, then," he rumbled.

Silence.

Kurosaki immediately froze. After a beat, his head slowly raised, whiskey eyes wide and pupils dilated. Oh? Grimmjow leaned back and gave a sideways smirk. He'd noticed after his and Kurosaki's little encounter in that alley that the orange-haired boy didn't snap at him as much. In fact, the boy didn't resent Grimmjow's thinly veiled – sometimes not even that – innuendos anymore. Occasionally, something like this would occur, where Kurosaki would let his irascible force-field falter and let blatant lust shine through. Those moments made Grimmjow want to grip a fistful of that intense orange hair and make the other teen howl in pleasure. But that was too much too soon.

"Ya know I'm jus' jokin' witcha, right?" he continued instead.

Kurosaki's head shook back and forth so slightly and quickly, if Grimmjow hadn't been watching closely, he never would've seen it. Brown eyes visibly cleared, then narrowed as Kurosaki leaned forward across the table.

"You like teasin' me, Grimmjow?" he growled, voice making the blue-haired teen's man downstairs pay very careful attention.

Amused and hiding it, Grimmjow coolly arched a brow. "Why dontcha elaborate, Kurosaki? Tha's jus' too good ta leave hangin'."

"You know exactly what the fuck I'm talkin' about. You sit here and say shit you _know_ makes me uncomfortable. And you do it because it makes you laugh – like this is some sorta _game_. Well, this ain't my idea of fun, _asshole_!" Kurosaki spat as he dropped the pudding cup onto his lunch tray and climbed to his feet.

No other words were exchanged as the shorter teen stalked away, ass on his shoulders for all the wrong reasons. Grimmjow leaned back in the cafeteria's blue, plastic chair, arms folded across his chest. Kurosaki was an idiot if he thought that was all this was about. Understandable, the kid had only recently come face to face with Grimmjow's true sexual nature, so misgivings were bound to occur. However, Kurosaki – the dumbass brat – had no idea how hard it was for Grimmjow to keep his hands to himself, let alone watch his words. Hell, the other boy was _lucky_ all he'd encountered so far was the watered down version of the weapon of mass destruction that was the blue-haired teen's mouth. Ungrateful little heathen. Not to mention, Kurosaki practically wallowed in denial whenever they were near each other. It was ridiculous, yet _still_ Grimmjow ignored it. He didn't want to put the carrot-haired imbecile on the spot, simply because he still wanted to get into the guy's pants. But Kurosaki was pissing him off and when Grimmjow got pissed...it wasn't good for anyone. Namely, the person in question.

He growled under his breath as he too stood and made his way out of the cafeteria. He really didn't want to ruin his master plan, but at the rate Kurosaki was moving, it made for extremely sluggish progress.

**XxxxxX**

Kurosaki was driving him mad with those innocent grins and that slick ass mouth of his. Grimmjow stared across the rooftop of the school and pretended to study a bird perched over the door. What he really wanted to do was strip the orange-haired teen beside him and take this thing they had a few steps further. He was tired of being patient, tired of waiting for the boy to wrap his mind around being with another male. At the moment, Grimmjow couldn't stop thinking about digging into Kurosaki's jeans and wrapping a hand around that perfect-

"Why're you so quiet?" Kurosaki's deep voice questioned, snatching Grimmjow from his dirty thoughts.

Grimmjow shrugged. "Jus' thinkin'."

"_Really_? You actually _do_ that?"

"Ha-ha."

Kurosaki cackled and rubbed a hand over his nose, smile still in place. As Grimmjow peered at him from the corner of his eye, he noticed that Kurosaki's smile was one of those rare, genuine ones. His lips were curved upwards, and his eyes were narrowed with amusement. Grimmjow sucked his teeth and looked away, disgruntled. Why was it so easy for Kurosaki to look good? Why did the guy make it seem so effortless, like he didn't even realize that he was that handsome in the first place? It was frustrating as hell.

"No, but seriously. You look like somethin's bothering you," Kurosaki went on.

Grimmjow fiddled with the hem of his hoodie and stared down at his ratty sneakers. He had a choice. He could ignore Kurosaki's question and pretend there was nothing wrong, or...he could tell the idiot exactly what he was feeling. That Kurosaki's full lips and enticing body had him mesmerized – had him itching to lay hands to the other boy. It was a tricky situation because Kurosaki had issues with his sexuality at the moment. He was confused since he'd never been attracted to guys before. Well, at least that's what he'd told Grimmjow. Grimmjow rolled his eyes. This wasn't even him. He _never_ held his tongue. He _never_ considered another person's feelings. He was just _him_, and nine times out of ten, _him_ meant being an asshole. So, why did he feel the need to tiptoe around Kurosaki?

That in mind, he turned and faced the orange-haired teenager with a smirk. "Yeah, there's somethin' wrong wit' me after all, Kurosaki."

Kurosaki's eyebrow went up. "I mean aside from what's already wrong with you, of course."

Grimmjow ignored the barb and leaned in, almost nose-to-nose with the other boy. "Yer pissin' me off wit' all this wishy-washy shit. Ya think I can't see how bad ya wanna do somethin' ta me? _With_ me? So, ya say yer not gay, right? But ya let me jerk ya off in that alley. _An'_ ya did the same ta me. All I'm sayin' s'ya _might_ wanna rethink things. Maybe make up yer mind 'er somethin' 'cuz I'm tired a'waitin'."

Kurosaki's face...was priceless. Grimmjow wanted to laugh. So, he did. He cackled and snorted like the other boy's expression was the funniest thing he'd ever seen in his life. He was tired of hiding his true nature in order to get into Kurosaki's pants. If the kid didn't even have the decency to at least _consider_ the fact that he might be a tiny bit in denial, then Grimmjow had nothing left to be conservative about.

_Fuck it_.

A hard punch to his shoulder brought him right out of his thoughts. Grimmjow turned to Kurosaki, face incredulous.

"What the fuck's wrong witchu?"

"Stop being an ass!"

"Well, stop bein' a fuckin' bitch! Man up, Kurosaki! 'Er ya too busy thinkin' 'bout what these sheep'll think a'ya?!"

"Wait! Where the fuck is this even coming from?"

Kurosaki seemed genuinely confused, and Grimmjow didn't understand it. He stared into deep brown eyes, lips parted in shock. "Ya can't be serious," he breathed.

"I _am_ fuckin' serious. I don't get where this is comin' from all of a sudden. I mean, I know you mess around with me, making jokes and shit, but this sounds different."

Grimmjow climbed to his feet, shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and glared down at Kurosaki, eyes cold and sharp.

"So, what _yer_ sayin' is you've been treatin' what _I've_ been sayin' like a _joke_?"

Kurosaki faltered, brows pulled into his signature scowl. "Well-"

"Fuck that!" Grimmjow cut him off, blood roaring and skin prickling with fury.

He'd never been taken so lightly in all his school years. Then, he stopped and thought about the situation. Kurosaki was hot. Kurosaki had a similar temper and similar likes and dislikes. Kurosaki was book-smart, but he didn't have an _ounce_ of common sense. Grimmjow was too impatient to wait around until the kid figured shit out. He could get sex anywhere if he really put his mind to it – most times, he didn't even have to. It just would've been really nice to get his hands on the boy he'd had his eye on for a while now.

_Oh, well_.

"I joke around, Kurosaki, but I don't play games. Since ya feel like this is a game, we can end it here. I won' bother you again."

Kurosaki jumped to his feet, eyes wide and _still fucking confused_. "Wait, Grimmjow! I don'-"

"Stop," Grimmjow interrupted again. "I thought ya were jus' tryna figure out whatcha wanted. Seems like I was wrong, so I'll let ya have what ya been wantin' since I first started talkin' ta ya: _alone time_. Nice knowin' ya, Kurosaki."

Grimmjow turned on his heel and strode over to the door to his freedom. All of a sudden, he felt stifled and trapped. Restless. He didn't want to see Kurosaki's face for at _least_ a week. Otherwise, he'd kick the damned thing in.

XOXOXO

Ichigo stood on the roof of the school, wondering what the hell had just happened. Grimmjow had been acting weird lately anyway, but his departing speech had been mind-blowing. Ichigo hadn't been expecting it, so it left him unbalanced. Reeling, even. Why the hell had Grimmjow gotten so serious all of a sudden? Hadn't his little dirty suggestions and comments been jokes? That was the understanding that Ichigo had.

"What the hell?" he muttered as he flopped down onto the roof's floor.

He leaned back against the metal railing and sighed as he closed his eyes. Now Grimmjow was clearly pissed and wanted nothing to do with him. Which, in hindsight, should have been a good thing. So, why did Ichigo feel like shit for the look that Grimmjow had been wearing? Nothing was adding up, and everything was just one big blob of confusion. If he wanted answers, he would have to chase the blue-haired teen down and force him to respond, which would more than likely result in a fist fight.

No thanks.

He'd been steering clear of those in recent days, and actually, his anger had begun subsiding. It was possible that Grimmjow had a very big part to play in that, but so what? Ichigo wasn't about to _admit_ it.

"No fuckin' way," he grumbled.

He reached into the breast pocket of his uniform shirt and retrieved the stolen cigarette he'd pilfered from Grimmjow. He'd grown to like the soothing and relaxing effects of the nicotine. Never mind the fact that he was slowly killing himself, nor the fact that if his old man found out, he wouldn't need to worry about being killed by cancer. Smoking put him in a special happy place, where he was able to think and muse in peace.

Although he felt the calming sensation from the nicotine after his first lungful, his mind wouldn't allow him to settle down. He kept wondering what Grimmjow was up to. Why had the boy been so pissed? Had Grimmjow _really_ been serious about this thing that was going on between them? Ichigo had thought it was all a joke – a huge prank that the mischievous student had been playing. Now, however, after Grimmjow's award-winning speech, Ichigo was starting to think otherwise. But...what the hell was he going to do to resolve the issue?

**I'm keeping these chapters for this particular story short and sweet. It's not going to be more than ten chapters, simply because I hadn't meant for it to be a full-fledged fic. **

**Thanks for reading!**


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